


a trifling friend indeed

by mochalatte94



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Falling In Love, Minor Character Death, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sex, Slow Burn, kind of, up until book 7 epilogue that is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 07:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochalatte94/pseuds/mochalatte94
Summary: Hermione, struggling with her work at the Ministry, enlists the help of one of her least favorite people in the world in order to gain some headway--by answering his anonymous personal ad. *** Doing a rewrite on Chapter 2; stick around for an update here soon!





	a trifling friend indeed

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This is the ship I'll go down with (though it pains me to use that language) and I'm so excited to finally have come up with a half-decent idea for a fic. Feel free to comment/critique!

It wasn’t that Hermione was in the wrong Department; she was simply stagnating. 

The wizarding world, seven years following the war, was at a standstill. The magical population had declined due to casualties in the conflict and the years following, and those who remained were trying frantically to salvage things. Unfortunately, there were many, many opinions about how that should be done, and few of those opinions started with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Hermione bemoaned the state of her meager Department’s affairs with Ginny Weasley at lunch many days—but one day in particular things came to a head with an _idea_. On this aforementioned day, the girls were taking an extended lunch in Hermione’s office in attempts to salvage what “girl time” from their busy schedules they could—a contrast to the quick sandwiches they usually consumed in a hurry in the dark confines of the Ministry’s cafeteria. 

The Brightest Witch of Her Age was in the middle of an explanation: her proposal to establish a minimum wage for house-elves, while very promising in terms of economic value, was not being received well by many established households in the wizarding community or even by many house-elves themselves. Enabling house-elves to receive an income would be the first step towards their citizenship and voting rights. It would increase their presence in the workforce, taking pressure off of many wizarding couples who were currently sacrificing their ability to have a family in favor of earning a decent living and making up for the drop in human workers over the years. It was an uncomfortable situation for the elves to reconcile, though, understandably, considering their long-existing status as unpaid laborers. Without the advancement of their financial situation, however, further steps toward equalization would be out of the question for the foreseeable future.

“Kingsley means well, but he’s not recognizing the significance of my suggestion. I need another voice on the Board that will advocate for me, however detached from the situation.”

“That’s a tall order. Those guys are pretty straight-laced.” Ginny, as an Auror and member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (the largest and most influential Department), was less familiar with the inner politics of the Ministry, not needing to seize every opportunity to get ahead. Hermione tried not to hold it against her.

As if on cue, a dark and familiar, straight-laced presence swept through Hermione’s door. Lucius Malfoy, Board member and former literal pain in the girls’ side, with his nose turned up at them in an unmistakably Malfoy way, strode over to the desk and placed a small stack of materials in front of Hermione as Ginny wrinkled her nose at his presence.

“Miss Granger. I was just having lunch with the Minister, and he requested that I deliver some documents to you.”

Hermione nodded. “Oh. Thank you. What are they?”

“I’ve no idea. I suggest you look yourself.” The wizard inclined his head politely despite the clipped nature of his statement. He was gone and down the hall again before either woman said anything else.

Ginny rolled her eyes, getting up from her seat to close the office door. “You’d think people would learn to knock, especially after spending so much time in the service of a Dark Lord who regularly tortured and killed his followers for so much as sneezing.”

“At least he doesn’t hiss or snarl at me anymore.” Lucius hadn’t been a direct problem since he was pardoned by the Ministry several years ago, but was still generally cold and indifferent towards most people he had negative history with. Narcissa Malfoy had passed away two or so years ago from a tragic pox that seemed to have contributed to her declining sanity, and since her death Lucius had been even more detached and coldly polite. As a former Dark wizard, he was still under strict advisement to stay out of trouble. As a result, he was a prominent, yet not revolutionary Board voice, like many others. Progress was slow in the wizarding community—and that was on purpose, considering the many different backgrounds of those forced to work together now.

“Maybe not, but he certainly doesn’t look at you with admiration.”

“I can’t imagine he ever will. I doubt we’ll get to the point when we see eye-to-eye.” Hermione picked up the thick envelope Lucius had dropped onto her desk and tore one side of it open, glancing at the contents hopefully—and then sighing, tossing them back onto the wooden surface.

“What are they?”

“Just a copy of the agenda for the next Board meeting and the appropriate literature. To educate myself on issues that aren’t mine. As usual.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” Ginny’s tone reminded Hermione of when they were much younger, dealing with injustices that affected them significantly more directly. It had been seven-ish years since the end of the war, but they and those who fought with them still remembered.

“I just need a speaking platform, and I need someone with more authority than myself to vouch for my cause.” Hermione looked down at the table, her eyes nearly boring holes in the wood with their intensity. After a moment, she heard a small muffled noise, and raised her gaze to the woman across from her.

Ginny was giggling, a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound for her best friend’s sake. “I’ve got an idea, and I think it’s a damn good one. But you need to hear me out.”

The other witch looked at her skeptically. “No good suggestion ever starts with a statement like that one.”

“Just—ugh.” Ginny rolled her eyes and folded her hands on the desk in front of her. “Hermione, I’m gonna be honest with you. I think you need a sugar daddy.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry. A what?”

“Well…” Ginny paused in mock thoughtfulness. “…Usually, an older man with money who’s looking for companionship in the form of a younger woman.” Her grin was absolutely goddamn sinful. “In return for time spent with him, he gifts the lady with said money.”

Blushing crimson, Hermione managed to scoff. “I don’t really need money, Gin. I have that.”

The redhead nodded, waving her hand in dismissal. “I know. But instead of money, it could be influence. Power. The upper hand in Ministry affairs. Sponsorship. You know?” Ginny’s tone was quickly changing from amused to nearly hopeful as she gained confidence in her—absurd, Hermione thought—idea. “Or, at least a vote in your favor.”

Hermione, both overwhelmed and mildly shell-shocked at the audacity of her dearest female friend, sighed and rubbed at her temples. “Does that not make me a prostitute? A veritable _scarlet woman_ , in the words of your mother from over a decade ago?” All of them—the girls, the rest of the family, Harry—adored Molly Weasley; but the miserable public state of Hermione’s affairs and the biting remarks from those she was closest to when she was in her early teens still nagged at her.

“C’mon, you know she was just defending Harry. He can, after all, do no wrong.” Ginny sighed, waving her hand dramatically again. “Besides, it’s been ages since all that’s finished.”

Hermione knew Ginny was slightly bitter at her mother always giving her fiancé the benefit of the doubt, despite the lack of blood relation. That was one thing that had never and would likely never change. It was a point of amused contention for all members of the family, especially those closest to Harry, and certainly made wedding planning with the Weasleys interesting.

“I know. I just—I don’t want to do that again.” She sighed once more. “Even though a few years have passed, we’re all still kind of in the public eye...and my—relationships—are no one’s business but my own. Imagine the headlines if this were to get out. ‘Hermione Granger, Ministry Mattress.’ ‘Once Stomped on Death Eaters, Now Stomps on Men’s Hearts’.”

Ginny laughed, then frowned. “Yeah. Maybe this can be a secret, though?”

“Easier said than done, but hypothetically, yes. You’re really into this idea, aren’t you?”

“I dunno, Herm. It’s at least somewhat titillating, isn’t it? Plus, you could really use the sexual stress relief.”

“Ginevra!” Red-faced, Hermione paused, slightly uncomfortable—but as little as she wished to admit it, she was also slightly intrigued. It had been a long time since her last relationship. She and Ron had amicably broken things off after a couple of years together, realizing that they were far better off as friends. She didn’t miss the emotional intimacy (probably because Ron still spanned a teaspoon-sized emotional range—some things never changed), but she did miss the sexual intimacy. A bit.

“I mean, I suppose. I’m not too keen on the concept, but if I like the guy enough…” She trailed off, and reddened. “But it’s not supposed to be titillating, Ginny, it’s supposed to be advantageous!”

“But it’d ideally be an agreement between the two of you, not a simple ‘sex for money’ equation. You’d both get something out of this relationship. So…why not both titillating and advantageous?”

Hermione sighed a third time, entertaining the notion silently. Was this really a terrible plan? “What would I have to do…?”

Ginny grinned triumphantly. “If you want secrecy, I’ve got an idea. We’ll go somewhere after work.”

***

Ginny led Hermione by the hand into a dingy bookshop in the back of one of Diagon Alley’s many offshoots, ignoring the shopkeeper’s inquisitive glance at their hurry. They headed to the back of the shop into an aisle with several racks of magazines, covers plastered with smiling witches and wizards waving to the camera in various states of dress and undress.

“You’re not going to make me take out a personal ad in Playboy, are you?” Hermione muttered nervously, avoiding the shiny paper gazes of the magazine covers.

“What’s Playboy?” Ginny asked, frowning as she scanned the racks.

“An extremely infamous Muggle publication that focuses specifically on…erm…men’s entertainment.”

“Like a nudie mag?” The redhead laughed. “God, no. You’re a sophisticated witch who will be able to easily find a sophisticated wizard by using a sophisticated source.” She held up a copy of Witch Weekly. “Start with this one.”

“Witch Weekly? Sophisticated? Really?” Hermione took it between her thumb and forefinger in disgust. “After the personal hell this magazine has put me through?”

“C’mon, just humor me and look at the personals. See if you can find what you’re looking for. Or what you’re not looking for, at least.” Ginny winked, turned away and continued down the aisle.

Sighing, Hermione thumbed through the issue until she found the ads.

_Lonely heart looking for another to commiserate with. Society brings us down, but we can help each other out. Must be smart, I.Q. no lower than 150 (mine is 155), and—_

No. That was a neckbeard situation waiting to happen.

_Do you like Quidditch? I love Quidditch. My favorite team is the Wimbourne Wasps. I’d love to talk to a Quidditch-loving lady over dinner—_

Poorly written, and opportunity for only one subject that she knew little to nothing about. Next.

_Wanted: hot witch, adventurous in bed, blonde preferred—_

“I don’t think this is what I’m looking for, Gin.”

Ginny spun around, holding a short stack of periodicals. “Try these.”

Hermione flipped through the titles. _Magic Monthly. Wondrous Wandwork. Aesthetic Wizardry._ “These are significantly less Witch Weekly-like. They have personal ads?”

“Sometimes, yeah! And they’ll attract the real thinkin’ types.” Ginny made a mock thoughtful face, and tapped her temple with her index finger. “The type of boys you like.”

“The type of MEN I like, you mean,” Hermione fired back.

“Now you’re getting it!”

She held the magazines to her chest. “I think I’ll take these home and look through them, if you don’t mind. I don’t really want to stay here any longer than necessary.”

Ginny nodded. “Sure thing. Just promise to tell me tomorrow if you find a sexy silver fox who strikes your fancy.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hold back a smile. “You’ll be the first to know.”

They parted ways outside the shop, and Hermione Apparated home with too many thoughts running through her mind. She poured herself a glass of wine and sat down to look through the rest of her reading material.

 _Magic Monthly_ and _Wondrous Wandwork_ ended up looking like more of the same; but _Aesthetic Wizardry_ , a small arts and literature publication, contained one ad that caught Hermione’s eye:

_Seeking companionship in the form of a woman who sees and thinks beyond the past, hopes for the future, and notices the refinement in both the ordinary and the extraordinary._

__

__

_Life has become increasingly grey these last years. I don’t require (and perhaps prefer no) strings, but I do hope for color._

After a moment’s thought, she grabbed a quill and penned a reply.

_I delight in your appreciation of our grey world, and think that perhaps I can make it a bit brighter. I look forward to finding that beauty and refinement you speak of, and I hope to evoke change for the better so that others find it, too._

__

__

_I hope to be your color, and I hope for your support in return._

It was vague, but Hermione thought it effectively got her “I want something too” point across. Money and power were sort of a must, but she wasn’t sure how she could phrase that in a few sentences and not sound like a total gold-digger. Hopefully this would be enough.

The next day, Ginny was overjoyed to hear that she’d responded to an ad.

“No doubt you’ll get a response soon! You’re basically the perfect woman. Smart, talented, passionate, nice tits…” She gestured wildly with the sandwich she was eating.

“Ginny! God. Thanks, I guess.” Blushing (and glancing down to her chest frantically), Hermione raked a hand through her hair. “I just hope I sounded good to him.”

“No doubt. Just you wait.”

True to Ginny’s words, Hermione didn’t have to wait long. A small, beautiful white owl was waiting for her when she arrived home from work.

_Your written words echoed in my head today. I thought I saw a streak of blue in the sky; a flash of gold in the ceiling when I awoke this morning. Would we to meet, I should show you those colors too, and would certainly support you in the way you desire._

__

__

_I enjoy many of the finer things: art, food, literature. However, I am also most content sitting in front of the fire with my dogs at my feet. Tell me about you._

She was delighted. Gold in his ceiling (though that may have been metaphorical) and enjoyment in the “finer things” probably indicated what she was looking for. Also, the way this man wrote made her feel like her room was a little bit too hot.

_I’d like to see those hues the way you do. Beautiful things happen in shades of grey, but too much of one thing is just that—too much._

__

_I enjoy those same interests thoroughly, and look forward to talking about them with someone who shares that passion. I’m probably younger than you, but I don’t always feel that way. I’m of average height with dark brown curly hair and matching eyes, and although I own a grumpy cat, I would describe myself as a dog person._

__

_I very much hope I live up to your lovely words._

It wasn’t even three hours before the little owl came back to her.

_It’s times like these that I am grateful my age has been kind to me. In my mind, you are every color._

__

_There’s a tiny French restaurant in the back of Knockturn Alley that I frequent. Meet me there tomorrow night; 7 o'clock. The host will be expecting you._

__

_Until then._

Hermione had to distract herself by burying her nose in a book before bed. Though it was one of her favorites, it was nearly impossible to focus. And it was also VERY warm. She made a mental note to turn the thermostat down the next morning.

Holy _moly,_ Ginny would be so proud of her.


End file.
